Whether on Ida's shady brow, <br /> Or in the chambers of the East, <br /> The chambers of the sun, that now <br /> From ancient melody have ceas'd; <br /> <br /> Whether in Heav'n ye wander fair, <br /> Or the green corners of the earth, <br /> Or the blue regions of the air, <br /> Where the melodious winds have birth; <br /> <br /> Whether on crystal rocks ye rove, <br /> Beneath the bosom of the sea <br /> Wand'ring in many a coral grove, <br /> Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry! <br /> <br /> How have you left the ancient love <br /> That bards of old enjoy'd in you! <br /> The languid strings do scarcely move! <br /> The sound is forc'd, the notes are few!<br /><br />William Blake<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-muses/
